24. Lennox
lennox
. . .
I hadn’t been lying when I told Bishop I was stewing since the moment I woke up. I’d spent the damn day in a silent rage, throwing myself into work. The entire house was spotless, cleaned from top to bottom—even my own bedroom, which I don’t think had ever been that organized.
When my parents got home from their doctor’s appointments, they didn’t recognize the house. Because they knew me as well as they did, they immediately launched an inquisition about what was wrong.
“Did someone get hurt? Are you fighting with one of your sisters?” It wasn’t until my Dad hit the nail on the head with, “Whose ass am I kicking for breaking your heart?” that I felt my bravado slip just a hair.
But instead of breaking down and telling my Dad that I was an idiot who’d foolishly opened her heart, I cracked a joke about my Adderall hitting hard and how I didn’t want to let it go to waste. His raised brow told me he didn’t believe me, but it was enough to stop the questioning.
When I finally trudged to my room and flopped down on my bed, I was so exhausted that I hoped to fall asleep quickly. But no. Of course, that would be too easy. Instead, I stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling until I finally let myself cry.
I wasn’t much of a crier. Never had been. That’d been more Josie’s reactionary emotion while I was the hothead of the family. I’d been known to cuss and fight and break things in a fit of anger—all of which I’d been working on in therapy since I was a kid, but things still slipped.
The tears flowed and flowed until I worried they wouldn’t stop. They matched the torrential downpour outside. I hated the way my chest ached. How I vividly recalled the immediate sensation of rejection when I woke up alone this morning.
But the sadness quickly gave way to anger, and before I knew it, I was storming out of the house, hopping in my truck, and driving through the storm until I reached Bishop’s cabin. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I just reacted.
I didn’t know what I expected from my little temper tantrum, but it sure wasn’t this.
Bishop wound his fingers through my hair, pulling me to him like he’d been drowning, and I was a breath of fresh air he desperately needed.
Our mouths moved against one another, tongues sweeping in and claiming.
He nipped at my lip, drawing it out as he pulled back to rest his forehead against mine.
“I’m scared,” he whispered, green eyes brimmed with silver. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be the partner you want—the one you deserve—because I have been on my own for so long, but goddammit, I wanna try if you’ll let me.”
He kissed me again, softer this time, but I felt just as much heat behind it. I felt his conviction, his earnest words, and his tender truths. We were both a mess, but we could be a mess together.
Maybe we could make something new, something tangible, something absolutely fucking epic.
“You can’t keep doing this to me, Bishop. You can’t keep being so hot and cold. You can’t keep things to yourself or make decisions on your own that concern me as well, because you will lose me if you do. You’ll lose whatever this is or could be,” I mumbled against his lips.
“I know, sweetheart. I know, and I?—”
It felt like he’d reached in and stolen the air from my lungs. “Wait…” I said, interrupting him. “Say it again.”
“I know?”
“No, the other thing.”
Bishop paused, lip quirking up. “You like that, huh?”
I nodded. It often sounded condescending as it fell from men’s lips—like they looked down on me, like I was less than they were. But when Bishop had said it, it felt right. “I think you’re the only one who's ever used the word sweet while talking about me, but okay.”
“Well, clearly, they’ve never tasted your pussy before, or else they’d know there’s no other word for you,” he growled against my lips as he kissed me fervently.
“Oh, they did, but I still never earned the distinction,” I said, choking back a laugh.
He lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug. “Their fucking loss is my gain.”
I pulled back, quirking a brow. “It doesn’t bother you that I said that?”
“What? That someone else has tasted you?” he snorted.
“Lennox, I’m not a saint. Neither are you.
We’re grown-ass adults. I don’t give a shit about what you’ve done in the past. I’m only concerned with your future.
” His fingertips danced along my still-drenched skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“But from here on out—” he kissed my shoulder, hand sliding into my back pocket “—I’m the only one who gets that honor. ”
His words terrified me. I wanted to believe them, but something was stopping me. Bishop was an honest man—an honorable man. He would never intentionally hurt me, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t accidentally happen if he thought it was what was best for me.
And that was where my hesitation lay.
“You’re talking a big game for someone who seemed terrified to take that step days ago,” I murmured. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m not?—”
I placed my finger on his lips. “Actions, Bishop. Show me, don’t tell me.”
“You want actions?” he growled, nipping my digit lightly, and I nodded. “I’ll show you fucking actions.”
Bishop leaned forward, grabbing my thighs and hoisting me in the air. I wound my legs around his waist. Neither of us cared that my clothes were soaked. We wouldn’t need them for long anyway if his hard dick was any indication.
He slammed me against the wall, grinding himself against my center as he captured my mouth. His hips rolled in measured strokes, and my head fell back on a moan. How did it feel this good? We hadn’t even done anything yet.
“You like that, killer?” he asked, trailing kisses down my neck. He bit down on my pulse point so hard I knew it’d bruise. Maybe I should have cared, but I didn’t. Not as his tongue swirled over the hurt.
“Yes,” I gasped.
“I’ve barely touched you,” he said, clicking his tongue. “What a needy little slut you are. Look at you grinding down on me.”
“You’re the one digging yourself into me.”
He laughed, but it was harsh. This wasn’t the same man who had been ready to shed tears ten minutes ago. It reminded me of the first time we kissed and how he’d taken control of the situation and my body. He exuded confidence, the epitome of big dick energy.
But hey, at least he had the package to back it up .
“I’m just giving you what you want, isn’t that right? You wanna be fucked. You wanna be filled.”
“Bishop shut up,” I said, tugging on his hair. He hissed, and the sound sent an electric current to my already aching core. “You sure talk a lot for someone who mumbles one-word sentences every day.”
I grappled for his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swoop. My eyes trailed along his tattoo, across the dark hair along his chest, and down the trail disappearing beneath his jeans. He followed my gaze, smirking when he realized I was staring at his dick.
He let me go abruptly, and I stumbled, steadying myself on his forearms. “What’re you doing?”
Slowly, he popped the button of his jeans. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do since the moment I carried you into this cabin, something we never got around to four months ago.”
My lips parted as he worked his zipper down.
“But I’m done fucking my hand to the thought of your lips wrapped around me, so…
” he paused, pushing his jeans down his thick, muscular thighs.
My mouth watered as the outline of his length came into view.
“You’re gonna drop to your knees like a good girl.
” Our eyes met, and I knew the slickness between my thighs wasn’t only from the rainwater.
“Then you’re gonna reach inside my boxers and pull out my cock. ”
I licked my lips, and Bishop tracked the movement. “And then what?”
He stepped forward, slowly wrapping my hair around his fist and tugging my head backward. He leaned forward, his facial hair scraping against my cheek as he whispered, “And then I’m going to fuck this pretty face of yours.”
I’d never dropped to my knees so fast in my life.
I wasn’t sure what was happening. Sure, I’d asked a few partners to pull my hair or slap my ass a time or two, but it was always half-hearted.
None of them were ever dominant in the way I needed.
Even when they tried, it felt awkward and forced, which made the moment so unbelievably unsexy that it ruined the whole mood.
Eventually, I gave up asking and went with the flow.
It was okay—nothing to write home about, obviously.
But this was a night and day difference.
Bishop didn’t just talk the talk. He walked it, too.
That edge came so easily to him. I was in awe of the way my mind and body wanted to please him, to obey him—even when I wanted to see how far I could push his buttons first.
Slowly, I lifted my hand and dipped inside his boxers. He hissed at the contact, but never took his eyes off me as I pulled him free and gave him one long stroke. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and I leaned in to lick it away.
“Shit,” he groaned, weaving his fingers in my hair. He pushed in, and I laid my tongue flat, running it along the silky skin. “That fucking mouth.”
Bishop tightened his grip, guiding my head down on his length until I felt it at the back of my throat. It wasn’t even all the way in. He held me there, enjoying the sight as my eyes began to sting.
He pulled me off, letting me catch my breath. A string of saliva connected my lips and his tip. “Can you go farther, killer? Can you take me all the way?”
“I can take it,” I gasped.
“Are you sure?” he asked, stroking himself from root to tip. “I dunno if you can.”
“I said I can do it,” I pleaded, replacing his hand with my own. “Let me show you.”
Without waiting, I slid him between my lips, not stopping until I met resistance. Bishop watched me, lips parted as I pushed further, taking him down my throat until my nose brushed against his pelvis.
“Fuuuuck.” The word was long and drawn out as I struggled to keep him there. I felt his hands on my head again, guiding me and setting a tempo. He was carefully testing the limits, figuring out what was comfortable and what wasn’t.
He pulled me off, panting as he said, “Put your hands on my thighs, killer. And tap if it’s too much.”
“Yes, daddy,” I said, nodding and doing what he asked.
He groaned, and as he slid between my lips this time, he was not gentle.
He wrapped my hair around his fist, pulling on the strands as he fucked my mouth with short, measured strokes that nearly made me dizzy.
I felt his muscles coiling beneath my hands with each thrust, savoring the knowledge that I was the one doing this to him.
Tears leaked from my eyes, but I focused on my breathing and the sounds he made.
Was it the daddy thing? Honestly, I’d seen the few times he’d tensed when I’d let the teasing name slip. Maybe it was just another way to get on his nerves, but if saying it got him this worked up… Well, what was a girl supposed to do?
My pussy was dripping. I needed something. I needed to be touched. Bishop seemed lost to his own pleasure, so I lifted one hand from his thigh and slipped it between my legs, shamelessly grinding myself down on my own fingers to soothe the ache.
The moment I brushed my clit, I moaned around his length, nearly coming on the spot. God, it felt so good. I imagined they were his fingers, his tongue, his cock.
“Needy little slut,” he panted, pulling me off and ripping my hand from between my legs. My fingers were slick, shining with my arousal. “Did I tell you to touch yourself?”
I shook my head.
“Words, Lennox.”
“No.”
“What’d I tell you to do?”
My chest rose and fell, breasts aching as he stared me down. I forced my eyes wide to look like I was actually nervous that I’d disappointed him, but I wasn’t. I wanted him to test his limits, just like he’d been testing mine. “To keep my hands on your thighs and let you use me.”
The growl that came out sent goosebumps skittering across my skin. Bishop hadn’t said it, but I knew that was what he meant. “That’s fucking right. But you didn’t listen, did you?”
“No.” And then I smiled, biting my lip before whispering, “What will you do to me?”
Bishop reached out, gripping my cheeks and forcing my mouth open before sticking my fingers inside. I tasted myself, desire landing sweet on my tongue.
“Bad girls don’t get to come, killer,” he muttered. “And from where I stand, you look like a naughty girl.”
“I guess you’ll have to punish me instead. Really make sure I learn my lesson.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Is that what you want? To be taught a lesson? For me to tell you what a needy little whore you are?”
“Yes, daddy,” I breathed.